


The Road to Wrack and Ruhn

by Bluethorns



Series: Totally True Tales of Large Women in Love [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Elcor, F/F, Krogan, mass effect universe with all OCs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:58:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1263793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluethorns/pseuds/Bluethorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruhn got bored with the pace of life on Dekunna, so she sold out and joined a merc band. After she got tired of getting shot at all the time, she bought a ship and now hauls whatever will fit to wherever it needs to go. She's got a (small) crew, a good ship, and hey, someone just bought her a drink! Life is good.</p><p>Rating may go higher, if I decide to get more graphic with various things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was never truly quiet on Wycome Station. Neither was anyone ever fully sober. Ruhn figured that it was just decades of alcohol fumes clogging the scrubbers in the ductwork; just taking a deep breath on one of the lower levels could knock someone silly.

The softly angled walls housed only a few thousand full-time inhabitants, but Wycome was known for its never ending party. A great place for shore leave, if you were the heavy drinking type, and a great place to haul the random surplus alcohol stock Ruhn would find from time to time. Of course, it helped if you knew someone who knew where Wycome was; the little station skipped around the Traverse seemingly at random. It was rumored that the inhabitants voted as to where they went next, but most people were of the opinion that it was some automated system because half the time, even the people who lived on Wycome weren't sure where the station was currently located. (Predictably, there was a small industry associated with the Skip. Small time pilots would park shuttles in the interior docks and hire themselves out to traders and crews caught on the station when it traveled.) It didn't happen every visit, but every standard month or three, the station would decide it was time to skip. Usually, there'd be a few hours warning, so people could get to their ships before the whole thing closed up and took off. During skips, often called "closing time," the inhabitants would clean up as best they could, before the party started back up. Sure, the bars ran on a rotating schedule, but those few hours of downtime weren't really enough to get everything as clean as it should be.

This trip, _Rumble Intensifies'_ hold had been groaning with alcoholic slush pumped up from the guts of Antirumgon. The pirates who'd thought it a good idea to attack _Rumble_ with a ship full of the stuff ought to have known better. Probably sampling the wares was the consensus amongst the crew.

The price it brought had been well worth the detour, grenade damage, and keeping the temperature in the cargo bay at something resembling Noveria. Feeling flush, Ruhn had hired some guards to watch the ship while the techs she'd hired cleaned up the last of the damage, and asked both her crewmates to join her at the bar. They'd closed the place down. Sig and Theia had long since returned to _Rumble_.

Ruhn found a new bar and tactfully stayed on the station to allow her friends a bit of privacy to roll around together. Not that she minded her pilot and her engineer having a relationship, but despite her attempts to tell them that she was fine with it, they still tried to hide it. Perhaps they felt bad because she didn't have a lover in the crew, and didn't want to flaunt their relationship.

As if they could hide the pheromones. Sig's were usually hard to pick up, but even she popped her seals occasionally. Theia, on the other hand, was an open book to Ruhn. No suit for the asari engineer, and she and Ruhn had been friends for at least fifty standard years. If Ruhn couldn't smell how her best friend felt about the quarian pilot, her body language would have given it all away anyhow.

The bartender - a slinky asari wearing a pinkish-purple dress that was more hole than fabric - slid a fresh drink in front of her. She tipped her head in the direction of an orange krogan at the end of the bar, who nodded at Ruhn. Ruhn grasped the tiny cup gingerly as she toasted her benefactor, and downed the shot. Mostly ryncol, by the burn going down.

She caught the bartender's eye. "Pleasantly: Please return the favor." The asari smiled, and slinked off to prepare a drink for the krogan.

A loud influx of partiers distracted Ruhn from the other end of the bar. When she looked back, the krogan was gone. An orange hand placed a drink next to her. "Forsan Wrack."  
"Drunk and flirty: Ruhn. Pleased to meet you."

* * *

It really was never truly quiet on Wycome Station, but this was something else entirely. Ruhn's head was throbbing, and the usual muted roar of merriment was being drowned out by the drone of someone snoring. Very close. She was in either a remarkably cheap hotel room, or a storage room. Pallet on the floor, bare walls, soft light from recessed panels aimed at the ceiling.

The snore hitched, and the warmth she hadn't really noticed at her belly shifted, and Ruhn realized all at once that both the snoring and warmth were coming from the orange krogan, who was pressed up against her, belly-to-belly, and that they were both quite naked. Her things were piled neatly nearby, and there looked to be a scatter of armor pieces on the other side of the pallet.

A chirp, and she realized what had woken her. From atop the folded stack of her clothing, her omni-tool blinked incoming. She blupped a command at the tool, and a holo of Theia tried to project through the fabric and into the floor. Ruhn righted the item as she fumbled it on.

"Much better. I didn't want to talk to the ceiling of-- why are you nak-- no, no. Don't answer that."  
The snoring stopped.  
"Anyhow," the asari continued, "I accepted a job that came through last night. Hauling run. We're due to take off in a few hours. Thought you might want to be on board."

"Who the hell is that?"  
The krogan - Forsomething Wrack? - was eyeing the holo with suspicion.  
"Massively hungover: My own personal demon." She directed the next comment to the small screen. "Are we flying there empty?"  
"Um, not entirely. I'll explain when you're back here."  
Theia cut the transmission.  
Ruhn resisted the urge to call her back to bitch at her. The hangover wasn't Theia's fault, after all. Whatever "not entirely" meant probably was, however.

"Awkwardly: We should probably get dressed."  
They were still lying together, belly to belly. One of Wrack's legs was trapped between both of Ruhn's, and she was propping herself up on one elbow to better look at Ruhn's face.  
Wrack seemed to realize at last that she, too, was naked. "Do we gotta? You're warm and I think I'd like to remember this morning, 'cause I sure don't remember last night."  
"Wondering: Maybe we were too drunk?"  
"I'm not too drunk now." Wrack grinned. "I'm about to ship out for some long, boring trip, and it'd be nice to start out on a good mood."  
"With remorse: I wish we had time. I need to get back to my ship." Ruhn paused a moment. When was the next time she'd get a chance to start a long, boring run in a good mood herself?  
"Reckless: They can't leave without me. I'm the captain."  
Wrack's faltering grin widened.

* * *

Dressed, relaxed, and running a bit late, Wrack and Ruhn parted ways outside the small hotel. Wrack, to find her new employer and head out on that long, boring trip, and Ruhn to her ship, and whatever "not entirely" entailed. Ruhn hoped that she'd run into Wrack again at some point, but thought it unlikely. She had expected to stay on Wycome for another two or three days, lining up cargo for the next run. Fuel was expensive, and flying empty didn't actually decrease the power draw, so leaving with an empty hold went against smart business sense.

Ruhn ambled towards the dock. Theia was waiting near the door of the docking bay, hands fluttering over a datapad. "You're late, Captain."  
"Smugly: My prerogative." She gave an exaggerated shrug. So far, she mostly practiced only with Theia, but Ruhn was trying to learn the kind of body language that other species would be able to interpret. "Shouting as if in an extremely loud room:" said her translator.  
"Have a good time?"  
"Satisfied: Massive hangover, better hookup." Ruhn knew that she looked rather the worse for wear. Wrack liked to bite. "Curiously: What did "not entirely" mean?"  
"Well, I know how much you hate to run without anything in the cargo bay, and all, so Sig and I will be joining you there. I've lined up three more shipping containers - delivered this morning - and Sig is cleaning them out now."  
"What's wrong with your quarters?"  
"Um, well, the volus didn't want to share."  
"What volus?"  
"The one we're taking to Ilium, and then to Talis Fia. He's picking up parts from the shipyard at Ilium. He'll be sleeping in the captain's quarters."  
"Disbelieving: You're telling me that we have a passenger?"  
"Um. Two passengers."  
"Disapproving: Two passengers. On my ship."  
"He's paying very well?"  
"How well?"  
"Enough to cover the fuel for the entire trip ten times over, and he's the one that paid for the containers, which we keep."  
"What's going in the extra one?"  
"His bodyguard."  
"Miserably: Great."  



	2. Chapter 2

  


While they were waiting for their missing passenger, Ruhn took a few moments to clean up and set herself to rights. She changed into her usual shipboard uniform of a dark, cropped jacket with multiple firearms concealed within and an integrated VI to take care of the targeting, matching leg covers, and a pale yellow undertunic and sleeves. A holster belted to her torso held yet another pistol, this one with a grip intended for Ruhn's hand and ungoverned by the VI. Theia was busy overseeing the restock of food and medical supplies, Sig was doing all of the arcane things one needed to do when preparing to fly off in a spaceship, and Ruhn, once finished with her ablutions, was in charge of cleaning the facilities, as well as checking to be sure that all the repairs were complete and spaceworthy.

Perhaps being heavily armed for normal shipboard activities was a little much, but Rumble was a juicy target and had been attacked by pirates several times now, and Ruhn's preparedness (and the pirates' laughing dismissal of her as a combatant) had played a major factor in repelling the attacks each time. This last time, Ruhn had boarded the pirate's ship and claimed the contents of their cargo hold (which led to a nice payout and more than covered the repair bill) before scuttling the pirates' ship (she'd have loved to sell it, but had no means to tow it, and no extra crew to man both the captured ship and her own.)

Sig was pacing in the cockpit, the iridescent swirls of her black suit making her look like an extension of the void on the other side of the viewport. "If that bosh'tet bodyguard isn't on board by the time I have to refile our plans for the fourth time, the body doesn't get guarded." The pilot gestured to a timer, slowly ticking down. 

Theia poked her head in from the hallway. "I just finished restocking the food. We've got two months' for everybody. The bodyguard is krogan, so I got a couple extra crates of mixed levo. Pal Usul said that our missing passenger just contacted him and will be on board shortly."

"Decisively: Theia, please go be on hand to welcome our newest passenger and tell him the rules. Sig, be ready; we're off as soon as the airlock closes. I am going to go to my station and pretend to do captain things."

 

Ruhn's station chirped as new things she needed to sign off on came through. Some, she marked for later perusal, but most she could just approve and clear. She felt the distant thump of the docking clamps disengaging, and the inertial dampeners kicking in to compensate for Sig's desperate speed towards the relay. Sig had two speeds, as far as Ruhn could tell: breakneck and reckless. Thankfully, Sig was an exceptional pilot, and for all her seeming disregard for safety, was always on target and precise in her navigation. She and Theia had worked together to (very carefully) overclock the engines, and while it ate perhaps a little more fuel than Ruhn liked when they were traveling between systems, they were developing a reputation for frequently showing up a bit early, and that ability to get goods where they needed to be faster than other similarly small freight operations allowed Rumble Intensifies to command higher rates, which neatly offset the extra fuel costs.

Ruhn exited the bridge, the door locking behind her, only to find a large, armed and fully helmeted krogan in orange armor guarding the door of the Volus' quarters and partially blocking the path to the cargo hold.  
"Startled: I wasn't expecting you to be blocking the hallway."  
"You!"  
"Confused: Me."  
"You left before I could get your information. I was chasing all over the station trying to find out who you were."  
"Dawning realization: Please remove your helmet."  
"Oh. Yeah." Wrack removed her helmet with a grin.  
"Pleasantly Surprised: Perhaps this trip won't be as boring as you were expecting."  
"I think I might be able to find a way to distract myself, if you're offering."  
"Curiously: Does your employer expect you to stand there and guard the door the entire time."  
"No. I just didn't know what else to do.  
"I can see at least four guns on you. I know why I'm armed. Why are you?"  
"Matter of fact: Pirates. Four attacks in the past two years."  
"And you can use them?"  
"Informatively: I have a VI to aim the mounted weapons. My pistol, I handle myself. I have heavier armament, but it's not safe to use inside the ship."

The intercom chirped. "Relay in three. Two. One." Midway through the 'one,' the whole ship shuddered as the relay grabbed hold and tossed Rumble towards the Tasale System.  
Sig continued,"It's late in Nos Astra. We make orbit in about an hour. Then we're stuck in the queue until morning. We'd be planetside in four if someone hadn't been so late."

Ruhn could hear the quarian pilot behind her flipping switches with extra force, and muttering something she couldn't quite make out through the door.  
Wrack rumbled a low laugh. "You let all your crew talk that way?"  
"Baldly: When they're as talented as Sig, yes."

 

"So, I know where my boss is gonna sleep on this boat. Where's my room?"  
"You're in the cargo hold with the rest of us. I'm not sure which container is yours."

Ruhn was already walking towards the hold.  
"Informatively: I have a workbench in my quarters, if you need to use one."  
"Yeah?"  
"Yeah."

\---

Ruhn's quarters - a comfortably decorated double-width shipping container tucked into a corner of the cargo hold - contained little in the way of furniture. A workbench where she cleaned and maintained the ship's small armory (the majority of it being her personal property), a portable loom set up across from the workbench, and a deep nest of rugs, blankets, and pillows in the center of the space. Low cabinets ran along one wall, with mesh-fronted shelves covered in hand-labeled jars above. Any space on the walls that wasn't already filled with shelving was draped with woven tapestries in warm tones, lending the space a cozy, tentlike quality.

"Awkwardly: It's a little cramped, but it's comfortable."  
"'A little cramped' my secondary left kidney! This is huge!"  
"Unless you're elcor."  
"Ooh. Is that a M-98 Widow?"  
"Proudly: I have a matched set."  
"I knew I liked you. Huh. Elcor sniper. Wait, I think I heard something about that. Wasn't that a vid or something? Like Blasto?"  
"Mixed pride and embarrassment: Not a vid. I used to be a merc."  
"What changed?"  
"Matter of factly: I got tired of being shot at. Never really liked killing for pay. I saved up and got out as soon as I could afford a ship."  
"This ship?"  
"With pride: This ship." Ruhn rolled back onto her haunches, freeing her forelimbs. She affectionately patted the wall. "Amused: Even with a Hanar name, she's sweet."  
"Why Hanar?"  
"Translator glitch."

"I think you're sweet."  
"No. You think I'm horny."  
"Maybe I'm just hopeful?"  
"I always did like optimists."

Ruhn shifted her weight back onto all fours, and took a few small steps to where Wrack was standing. Their faces were almost level, and Ruhn took the opportunity to gently bump her shoulder into Wrack's.

Before she had a chance to respond, Wrack's communicator chirped.  
"What? You actually did expect me to stand in the doorway the whole time?"  
"No. But I have need of you. Please come see me."

Wrack shrugged. "No idea what he wants."  
"With mild disappointment: Go and see. I have things I need to take care of myself."

The automatic door of the shipping container closed behind Wrack, and Ruhn sank back onto her haunches, silently puffing out her delight that her short-lived fling might get an extension, before rummaging through the cabinets, looking for the stack of finished tapestries that she could leave with a friend who ran a gallery in Nos Astra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found my original outline for this, and already I've gone wildly off. I'm going to try to push this in the right direction, somehow. Eventually. Because the world NEEDS an elcor/krogan romance, and it doesn't look like anyone else wants to do it. Heh. 
> 
> (It'll probably take a long while, though, because I'm the slowest, least consistent writer ever.)
> 
> Doodle of Ruhn in her Han Solo-inspired outfit by me. If it's not showing up, edit this with a link to it on tumblr. (I hope it shows up.)

**Author's Note:**

> There might be a lot of this. Or it might crap out after three chapters. At least I've got an outline this time, and 11k words of babble about the plot, so this one already has a better chance at making it than my last attempt at a long work. *fingers crossed for luck*  
> Updates when I have something ready. 
> 
> Wycome Station's name was blatantly sto.. ahem.. borrowed from Dragon Age.


End file.
